


the feeling still deep down

by ForYou_InSilence



Series: Futile Devices [1]
Category: Actor RPF, Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, if you are looking for happy ot3, these two are so in love, you won't find it here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 07:05:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13359063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForYou_InSilence/pseuds/ForYou_InSilence
Summary: A series of behind-the-scenes vignettes during the time between Timmy's birthday and the Palm Springs Film Festival awards.Here, Timmy spends a few days in Florida after his birthday.





	the feeling still deep down

**Author's Note:**

> For Luc, isitandwonder, missmuffin221, rainbowdazzle, me-notokay, littlelovebomb, and cmbyn-ghostspots. You ALL have made this fandom experience one of the very best I've ever had. xoxo
> 
> A/N: This fic has not been beta'd and I am a complete noob at formatting, so I will just apologise off the bat for any glaring errors and mistakes.
> 
> It's been approximately 237 years since I've written anything. I've only ever written and posted Johnlock fic, so this is not only my first CMBYN-related work, but also my first foray into RPF. Whee. :) So, while I appreciate any honest comments and feedback, please just be a bit kind about it.

I thought that I was dreaming when you said you love me

The start of nothing

I had no chance to prepare

I couldn't see you coming

The start of nothing new

I could hate you now

It's quite alright to hate me now

When we both know that deep down

The feeling still deep down is good

**_Ivy_ , Frank Ocean**

* * *

 

 

**_< What's up, birthday boy?>_ **

Timmy smiled as he looked at the timestamp. Three minutes until midnight. His birthday was nearly over. Armie had barely managed to get in under the wire.

 _ <Almost gave up on you.> _He typed back, hoping Armie didn't believe it for a second.

 **<** **_Don't._ **  

**_Busy? >_ **

Timmy couldn't help but roll his eyes.

_ <It's midnight in a Florida retirement community. What do you think?> _

**_< Right, don't be a smartass ;)_ **

**_Talk? >_ **

_ <Can you give me five?> _

The return message came after a beat that stole Timmy's breath.

 **<** **_For you?_ **

**_A lifetime. >_ **

The condo was quiet, too dark and unfamiliar. He bumped his shin on the corner of the coffee table, smothering a curse as he made his way to the 'lanai'. He had flown to Florida with his mom the day before. It was tradition to celebrate his birthday along with his Grandma Enid, whose own fell not even a week later. Baby New Year, she always called herself; teased.

They normally did it up big—a large family gathering on or around the New Year—but with his sister and Dad unable to make the trip, it gave Timmy the chance to do his 'own thing' this year and so this trip had been his compromise. And was also partially the reason why he was so eager to make it outside— for a smoke, for privacy— for the chance to finalize plans with Armie.

Timmy carefully slid the glass door shut, smiling at the silent swish and click as it closed. The action reminded him of a different door, slamming shut, his character afraid of waking anyone, of them knowing (hoping) what may or may not happen behind that closed door.

He was pretty sure his mom _knew_ . About the smoking and about— _other things_ . But, she had always allowed Timmy his space. _His choice. His decisions_ . He never looked closely enough to gauge her reaction, to see if there was a hint disappointment she might have held regarding his actions. Ignorance _was_ bliss.  

The night was late-December, southern-Florida warm and a welcome change from the bitter cold of NYC. The condominium complex at this time of night was quiet enough, the night sky cloudless and clear enough, Timmy could hear the murmur of the ocean two blocks away. The susurrus of stiff, brittle palm fronds rubbing against one another in the gentle breeze that always stirred the air here.

He pulled a cigarette from the pack he had had for over a week. Timmy didn't smoke a lot. It was a habit borne of nervousness— when he was stressed— needing something to keep his hands occupied. _Talking_ to Armie definitely warranted something to keep him calm. Sure, they texted all the time. Skyped with his family (more so, he thought, to keep Hops and Ford familiar with his face and voice so that they didn't have to continuously start _fresh_ with who 'Uncle Timmy' was every time he came round). Now, having the thought of Armie's voice in his ear— close and intimate— was a _lot_ and Timmy needed fortification and something _else_ to think about while they spoke.

Sometimes he longed for the chance to Skype with Armie privately, but Timmy got it. _He did_ . It didn't make it any easier to _accept,_ though. They were friends, _good friends_ . For one shining moment in time, it seemed as if they could have been more; _both_ had wanted it to be more. For one night alone, they had allowed themselves to _be_ more. But, they had eventually agreed the risks and inevitable collateral damage were too great to overcome. It was selfish of them both to entertain otherwise, not with families— a wife, children— involved. Armie's reluctance to make promises he couldn't keep and refusal to hold Timmy back from experiencing life to its fullest was a selflessness which endeared him to Timmy even more.  

Through heartbreaking soul-searching and endless round-and-round arguments, somehow, they had settled on _this—_ whatever it was. Pals. Buddies. Best friends. They both meant too much to each other to ever think of cutting ties completely. They couldn't have if they'd tried. The thought of not having Armie to turn to, to seek his advice, to bemoan the journey into recognition wasn't something Timmy could fathom. Oftentimes, Timmy felt as if he were leaning on Armie too much, the dynamic too one-sided, only to have Armie reassure Timmy that he needed him just as much, to keep him grounded, to remind him of all he had learned. To remind him to love life.

So- friends. Friends was fine. Perfect.  

It was better than nothing at all.

With a sigh, Timmy placed the cigarette in his mouth, lighting it with a deep inhale that instantly soothed. His phone vibrated in his hand. He smiled, taking the time difference into account. After 10 PM in Colorado. Well past bedtime for any toddler.  

Timmy's heart did a funny little flop in his chest when he actually looked at the screen of his phone. Ringing in the palm of his hand was the best birthday present he could have hoped for: a Skype call incoming from 'Dougie'.  

His smile grew wide around the cigarette clamped between his teeth, was instantly back in Italy, remembering the moment Armie first saw his contact name in Timmy's phone.

 _The shoot was well under way but behind schedule. Between something about some of the film they'd already shot having been damaged and the continued torrential rain, Luca was a raving lunatic. Timmy was glad for the rare mid-week day off._  

 _The weather was bad enough to keep Armie and Timmy from their routine of meeting for breakfast at the tiny trattoria in town, so Timmy offered to cook. In Armie's apartment, he made crêpes, presenting them with a flourish and a thickly-accented '_ voilà', _which Armie followed with an over-loud and salacious smacking kiss to the back of Timmy's neck. A low, "fancy fucker", was whispered with a growl into Timmy's ear as Armie reached from behind and took the plate from Timmy's hand with a smile bright as the sun._  

_After breakfast, they sat around all day in shorts and t-shirts, the humidity like a blanket, zapping every ounce of energy either had to do anything more than complain about the lack of air conditioning. Armie, too lazy to be bothered to get up and retrieve his own phone from the bedroom, was scrolling through Timmy's—no doubt Timmy would have to erase his search history the minute Armie returned it to him to avoid future embarrassment— when he suddenly held it up, demanding Timmy look at it._

_"What the fuck, Tea?"_  

_The look on Armie's face was a ridiculously hilarious scowl. How did he manage to scrunch his forehead like that? Timmy gave the phone a cursory glance._

_"What?" Timmy's mouth pinched to avoid a smile before returning his attention back to the book he had been trying to read between day-dreaming about other things he wished they were doing that afternoon in Armie's tiny Crema apartment, on Armie's tiny, cramped sofa._

_Timmy knew exactly what Armie was demanding an answer to._

_"'_ Dougie _'? The fuck?" He shoved Timmy's phone under his nose again, as if Timmy hadn't seen it the first time. "And this pic? What the hell, Timmy?"_

_Timmy shrugged. "It's your name. It's your ear."_

_Armie scoffed, the sound always reminding Timmy of a bear or some other wild, ornery creature._  

 _"That is_ not _my name. And my ear? Who takes a picture of someone's fucking ear? When the_ hell _did you take a picture of my_ ear _?" Armie tossed the phone into Timmy's lap in exasperation, and slumped into the corner of the sofa, arms crossed over his chest._

_Timmy felt his own burst of exasperation as he placed his book and phone on the coffee table before moving swiftly, decisively. He twisted on the sofa, easily shifting to bring one leg up and over, straddling Armie's lap. Armie grunted, but instead of pushing Timmy away, his hands moved to Timmy's thighs, gripping tight, holding him steady; close._

_Timmy traced the tip of his index finger along the neck of Armie's t-shirt before hooking it in the  stretched collar and pulling it down. Thick golden chest hair escaping in its wake. Leaning in, Timmy pressed a kiss to Armie's suprasternal notch, the skin warm and only slightly damp, the chest hair tickling his chin. It felt like sinking as Armie exhaled a slow, contented sigh._  

 _How many conversations had they had with barely any space between them, sharing the same air? Always felt as if they couldn't be_ close _enough. Never close enough._  

 _"Armand," Timmy whispered against Armie's throat to punctuate his name. He felt the movement of Armie's Adam's apple against his lips as he swallowed._  

 _"_ Douglas _," he moved his mouth, lips trailing up the line of Armie's jaw, rubbing them against the more-than five o'clock shadow that had grown in over the course of the day."It_ is _your name," Timmy licked at the particularly sensitive spot just beneath Armie's ear, as he tilted his head, stretching to the side to give Timmy more access._

 _Taking full advantage, Timmy ran his nose up and down the side of Armie's throat, breathing him in, relishing the scent of him- earthy, sun-warmed, like rain-soaked grass and the essence of a good Scotch._  

_"But. 'Armie' 's bad enough. Why-" Armie's voice, tumbled like loose gravel, catching before he could continue. "Why 'Dougie'?"_

_Timmy licked Armie's ear, relishing the full-body shudder which he could feel between his thighs as it coursed through the man held between his thighs._  

 _"You know I'm the worst at leaving my phone lying around everywhere," Timmy offered in explanation as he ran the tip of his nose up and down the side of Armie's neck between words. His hands slid down Armie's arms, then back up across his broad chest to his shoulders, feeling Armie melt further and further into the old, worn sofa beneath him. "So, if someone came across it. Not many people would think_ you _if they saw the name 'Dougie'."_

_Armie smiled, his eyes closed as he hummed in understanding._

_"Plus, it's kind of cute." Timmy laughed, nibbling on Armie's chin._

_"Cute?" Armie groused before tickling Timmy in retailiation._  

 _Timmy giggled, squirming in Armie's lap until he let out an undignified yelp when Armie pinched his thigh—hard—immediately turning the moment from jovial to heat-filled._  

_It was Timmy's turn to shudder with pleasure as Armie's hands moved in a slow caress from the back of Timmy's thighs, over the curve of his ass, up the long slope of his spine._

_"I haven't been cute since I was 13 years old and became a giant overnight."_  

_Timmy understood the comment too well, and knew Armie still harboured that tiny little boy's soul in his cumbersome, over-sized body. It was one of the things that intrigued Timmy so much about Armie. To look at him, he was flawless—tall, blond, beautiful. The classic example of California-boy perfection, but if you dared to look closer— to pay attention— you saw the bluster of model-good looks and over-confidence was nothing more than smoke and mirrors.  A parlor trick to keep anyone from seeing the vast heart and the pain he hid inside._

_Timmy closed his eyes, pressed his face to Armie's neck, his arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, his fingers twisting in the soft hair at the nape of Armie's neck. Overwhelmed._

_Armie didn't acknowledge Timmy's momentary distress, or more likely, refused to, as was his MO. He did it to protect Timmy, to keep him from dwelling too much on Armie's shadows. Instead, he slid his hands to Timmy's shoulders, grip firm, directing and pointed in what he was demanding. He wanted Timmy to move, to surface from that dark place of dwelling on thoughts of Armie's pain and bring their mouths together, finally. To lose themselves in this window of time and forget there was anything outside the walls of this run-down apartment. Forget there was a world beyond the hills and trees of this tiny Italian oasis._  

_Timmy knew this game and so he played his part. Letting Armie have his way by refusing to indulge in Armie's persistence, perceptive in knowing how much it always secretly thrilled Armie for Timmy to be a little less than acquiescent. Instead he continued to nuzzle Armie's neck, moving slowly once more up towards Armie's ear._

_"Alright. Maybe cute isn't the best word."_

_"Definitely not," Armie lazily agreed._  

_It never ceased to amaze Timmy how Armie so easily relinquished his autonomy to Timmy's control. From the moment this— whatever it was between them they were doing—  had begun, it had been on Timmy's terms, at Timmy's pace. It was a heady thought to know he held so much power over this larger-than-life man he'd admired from afar for years._

_It was humbling and fostered a bizarre sort of protective instinct for him on Armie's behalf. This whole thing was so confusing to both of them, but there was nothing in the world that could stop it happening. It was outside their ability to do anything but ride out the storm, together._  

 _Timmy focused his attention back on the Armie present now, pliant and willing. He teased, pulling the lobe of Armie's ear into his mouth, biting, sucking as Armie hissed a moan Timmy could feel vibrate from the cavern of Armie's chest. The sound made him dizzy. His toes curled._  

_"And that's why the picture, Armie. God," Timmy was suddenly too breathless, too aware this wouldn't last. "To remind me every time I see it, of that. exact. sound."_

_Armie moaned again, full of understanding and agreement. His hands drifted slowly down Timmy's back, traced the slope of each hip, before his large hands turned, fingers spread wide to encompass the entirety of Timmy's ass in their palms. Timmy thrilled at their weighty promise and dropped his head back with a gasp as Armie pulled him up tight against him, crotch to crotch._

_It was the first time they had gone that far. It was thrilling and terrifying. Of course, they had been hard in one another's presence. They were young, virile men! They'd been near-naked in many scenes they'd filmed already. Had spent hours kissing, on and off-set.  But by silent agreement, they had convinced themselves that making out— kissing— was as far as they would go, that it didn't really_ mean _anything. Somehow they justified it as part of the job, that if they were easy and familiar with one another on a close, personal basis, it couldn't help but be reflected onscreen in a pure and beautiful way (that was the hope at least). And they were friends, great friends by some random luck of the universe, their connection and spark had been instantaneous. In the bubble of this summer idyll, they relinquished all boundaries. They allowed the lines to blur as they immersed themselves in an experience that seemed other-wordly. Modern societal rules and constraints felt abhorrent and intrusive._

_To feel the ridge of Armie's hardness pressed against his own had been a revelation.._

His phone vibrated again, bringing him back to the present. He felt flushed and hoped the lighting on the patio hid the truth of that from Armie. Breathless, he swiped at his screen and waited for the call to connect.

Armie's _face_ filled the screen. Timmy felt the world both right itself and tilt on its axis the moment he saw Armie's eyes light up as he saw Timmy from his end. In lieu of a hello, he immediately offered a warbling— though heartfelt—rendition of happy birthday. They were both laughing, Timmy with mirthful tears in his eyes, by the time he finished.

"Happy birthday, Sweet Tea."

Timmy groaned, his eyes squeezed shut. "Sweet Tea? You had to go _there_?"  

"Hey, I was calling you that long before a billion Chinese decided to harsh my mellow."

Timmy smiled, nodding as he took a long drag from his cigarette, remembering the first time Armie had called him that.  

"Yeah, all right, but dude. It's embarrassing."

"Nah, man," Armie chided. "Suits you."

It was too softly spoken and Timmy looked down at his feet. His bare toes twitched against the smooth, cool pavers of the patio. He never knew what to say or how to respond when Armie got that tone or said something so simple but was loaded with so many other things he couldn't, or wouldn't, say.  

"So, how's your day been?" Bless Armie. He knew- always knew- when Timmy was a little overwhelmed. "How's Grandma Enid. Has she forgotten I still owe her twenty bucks from that Lakers game?"

Timmy burst out laughing and the tension was immediately broken, leaving him wondering if it had ever been there in the first place.

Timmy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, cigarette held between his fingers. "Where's Elizabeth? Let me say hi."

"Oh, um-" Armie's phone shifted, the angle showing only the collar of his rich brown turtleneck sweater and the scruff of his jaw before righting itself with Armie's face back in view. "She's not here, actually. Some of the family went into town for a late dinner."

"What? You passed up the opportunity for food?" Timmy joked, trying to suss out why he felt suddenly uneasy.  

This was indeed an unprecedented call.

Armie gave a half-hearted chuckle in response, his smile never quite reaching his eyes. "Right? That’s is a first. Yeah, just think I've had enough 'family togetherness' to last me awhile. Wanted a little quiet time with the kids." His eyes shifted away from his camera for a moment, before returning and allowing his face to finally relax into the soft smile Timmy only ever saw directed at him.

The next ten minutes they filled each other in on what they'd been doing the past couple of days. Armie was jealous to hear Timmy had been swimming most of the afternoon— _I'm out here freezing my balls off, you little shit—_ but was enjoying watching the kids playing in the snow.

Their conversation was easy, comfortable. Like slipping on their favorite pair of Chucks. Once they caught up, they fell into a soft silence. Timmy pinched the light from the end of his cigarette, placing the butt on the edge of an iron plant stand to throw away once he was back inside.  

A small blue-tailed lizard scurried across the path leading to the sidewalk.

"Miss you."

Timmy wasn't sure he'd said it loud enough for Armie to hear. Was surprised he'd said it at all.

"God, T," Armie sounded wrecked. "I can't- You have no idea. _No_ idea."

But Timmy thought maybe he did because just the sound of Armie's voice- painful, longing- made him feel hollow inside. Truth was, he always felt incomplete when he wasn't in Armie's presence. Had since the moment he had burst through the door that summer day in Crema to introduce himself. Disrupting Timmy's piano lesson with his vivacious charisma and charm. Timmy had practically melted the moment Armie wrapped him in a bear hug, with an off-hand, " _Sorry, man,"_ and an alarmingly bashful smile when Timmy could do nothing but murmur 'mmph' crushed against his chest.

Timmy had no idea what they were doing. All this time, through all the tension-filled filming and the chemistry everyone whispered about, to now. They had only given in _once_ and swore 'never again' but the tension hovered between them, piano-wire tight, ready to snap at any wrong note played. The desire, the need, the _ache_ to do more, was there, always there, but they resisted for a myriad of reasons. Guilt, respect, fear. Even this, a simple conversation, they knew what they were doing wasn't innocent. Their actions affected a lot of people. Could _hurt_ a lot of people and they had tried to keep their distance.  

They just couldn’t.  

Their connection was palpable. Visceral. It had been instantaneous and electrifying. And nearly two years later, it was stronger than ever.

Neither had ever experienced anything like it. They could talk about anything. Say anything. They were never anything but 100% authentic with each other. It was refreshing.  

It was terrifying.

Timmy cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair as he looked out past the patio where he stood, past the lights of the parking lot and further to the ocean.  

"I'm glad-" Timmy swallowed. He felt an overwhelming urge to cry. To crawl into Armie's lap and cling to him as he melted in his own tears. "I'm glad you called. I was just thinking about the weekend. What we could do. I found this old cinema in Brooklyn. They're doing a Rosenberg retrospective. Showing _Cool Hand Luke_ Saturday night, thought we'd catch that. What time does your flight get in?"

"Timmy-"

"We could get reservations for dinner. I know you'll be starving after your flight-"

"Timmy." Armie interjected.

Timmy felt his cheeks go pink, caught out rambling on like an over-eager child. He was just excited; looking forward to spending a couple days simply hanging out with Armie. Watch some films, eat amazing food. Talk. Be still. Together.They hadn't had a chance to hang out, just the two of them in ages. Who could blame him for being excited? That's all he'd wanted for his birthday. No party. No loud, drunk craziness. Just time to chill. To reclaim the quiet intensity they had had in Crema. For a little while.

"Tim, listen- Listen, I'm sorry," Armie's eyes were closed and Timmy felt his stomach drop to his feet.  

On the patio was a tiny wrought-iron café table with two dainty chairs, the feet of which made an ungodly scraping noise as Timmy pulled it out and sank into it. The phone in his hand had drooped, the only thing visible on Armie's end now was his shoulder and chin.

"Tea, talk to me. I can't see you. Let me see you."

Timmy rolled his eyes, wondering why Armie wanted to see him. _He didn't want to see him._ He adjusted the phone and stared at the tiny dot of the camera. _Let him see._

"Aw, Timmy."  

Armie's face was a study in anguish. Timmy hated it.  

"Elizabeth just sprung this on me, a _New Year's gift_ . Like, I don't know when that became a _thing,_ but. She said she forgot about me heading over there. She's already made all these plans for us, and the kids," Armie groaned, rubbing his hand violently across his face. Timmy could hear the rasp of his stubble against his palm. He wanted to hang up.

"You gotta know I want to be there, Tea. You gotta-"

"Do I?" Timmy bit off, wishing for all the world he could learn to keep his mouth shut. He took a deep breath, fought the urge to throw his phone into his grandma's hedges.  

"Timmy, come on, man."  

Armie's voice was soft and it made Timmy's heart _ache._  

In his lap, his free hand made a fist so tight his fingers felt numb.  

"I know. It's okay. I get it, it's no big deal." But it was, it was a big deal. And it was Timmy's fault for  holding out _hope_ after all this time. "We'll see each other next week. S'all good."

Timmy sat up, stretching his back in an arch. "I should get going. Been a long day and I'm beat."

"I don't want to go with you upset-"

"No, honestly. I'm good. A family vacation sounds nice. I hope you guys have a great time."  

"I'll text you." Armie offered and Timmy knew that he would, he just wished he wouldn't.  

"Thanks for the birthday wishes. Have a great trip." Timmy pressed end before Armie could say anything else.  

" _Fuck_ ." Timmy breathed. It felt like squeezing the word out through a straw.  " _FUCK!"_

A dog barked somewhere down the street. He didn't care if he woke the whole eastern seaboard.  

_Fuck._

His phoned buzzed, sounding like a jack-hammer, vibrating against the metal table.

**_< Don't be angry. Please.>_ **

_Pals. Buddies. Best friends._  

Timmy deleted the text without a response before pulling up his contacts.

< _Feel like getting fucked up this weekend. You in? > _

  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm [foryou-insilence](foryou-insilence.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.


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